Money Won't Buy Happiness
by Chocolate 'N Giggles
Summary: Soda wasn't Steve's first best friend. Amelia and Steve were joined at the hip since preschool. However, sometimes all it takes to tear two friends apart are just two simple words: "social class"
1. The Girl in The Red Dress

**Disclaimer: Steve and any other Outsiders characters belong to S.E. Hinton. I do not own anything. Translation: Dis is nawt mine.**

* * *

_**Tulsa Oklahoma, October 3, 1966**_

Sodapop didn't know what to think that sunny day when that rich Soc girl appeared at the entrance of the DX.

The Socy girls never came to the DX, at least not his DX. If they needed a repair, they went to those pricey repair shops that spent weeks on their car on their own side of town.

Frankly, he didn't exactly care. If anything, he'd like to personally kick her out of the store rather than dealing with her.

Johnny killed a Soc. Johnny died. Dally practically committed suicide. He just found out the girl he'd thought he be with forever cheated on him, and then she moved to Florida-all in a few weeks.

Soda's little brother had been quieter and kept more to himself ever since the horrible events took place, and Soda couldn't say he was handling it any better. Right now, he had too much on his mind to be curious.

Ever since Sandy left, he'd been too depressed for chit-chat, and the millions of girls that would often flock around him at work had slowly disbanded. It was the first time this month that he'd seen anyone younger than twenty at the DX.

He rubbed his blackened fingertips off with a dirty cloth and walked towards the girl.

"Need sumthin'?" he asked emotionlessly.

She rubbed the back of her neck nervously, and played with the edge of her decently long red dress that must have cost hundreds. "Is Steve Randle here?" she asked quietly.

"Whatcha want from him?" Soda replied, narrowing his eyes. Steve hated every single one of the Socs, especially the girls, and even more so after the death of Johnny and Dally. Soda didn't believe that he would be socializing with any of the proper rich girls like her.

"Just, please" she replied, a slight air of superiority tingling her voice.

Soda raised a single eyebrow at her, his annoyance building.

"Please," she said again. "Tell him it's Amelia." When Soda didn't move, she dug her hand in her purse, fishing out a wallet.

"I'll give you this," she said, waving a twenty dollar bill in his face. "If you go get him for me."

As rare as it was, there were some times that Soda would lose his temper. This was one of those times.

"I don't need your worthless money," he snapped, as he slapped the bills from her delicate fingers. "I'll go get him," he said, his nostrils flaring.

"Thanks," the girl said, with a genuine smile.

Soda glared at her, and swung around to head to the back where Steve usually went when business was slow. However, at that moment Steve himself emerged through a small door at the corner of the garage.

"What's up," he said, dropping his cigarette on the cement flooring, and stomping on it to put out the sparks. Soda couldn't help but notice the way the Soc flinched.

Steve glanced up from his crushed weed. His jaw opened just enough to be noticeable and his eyes filled up with a mixture of different emotions that Soda couldn't name. Confusion? Anger? Hate? Surprise? Longing? Soda settled on an average of all five.

"What the fuck?" he said, his eyes looking past Soda, a distant expression on his face.

"Lia?" Suddenly, he froze, and regained his usually confident posture. "Fuck are you doin' here?" he hissed at the girl.

"Hey," she murmured softly, giving a tiny three-fingered wave.

"Need a repair girly?" he sneered. She opened her mouth to speak, but Steve cut her off. "Cause if you don't, then you better get the hell outta here." He paused, his anger slowly building. "You know what? I don't care if you need a repair, just leave. Go to one of those places on your side of town, little rich girl."

"Steve," she said calmly, her eyes giving away nothing. "I just want to talk to you." Steve's glare hardened. "Please?" she said, adding the last word like it would make a difference.

"Tough luck," he scorned before swinging around and trotting back to where he came from.

"Steve," the girl shrieked, louder than she should have. She scrambled after him, opening the door and slamming it shut behind her.

Soda waited for a few second. That became five minutes, then ten, and then a half hour passed, but neither of them emerged.

Soda threw down the wrench and stripped off his tool belt and threw it in a corner. Screw Steve, he thought angrily. He didn't know the girl, and it wasn't like Steve bothered to inform him. He knew she wasn't an ex-girlfriend; Steve couldn't keep that a secret if he tried. Girlfriends excluding Evie meant nothing to Steve, so she must have been more than that.

He was sick and tired of being kept in the dark. He was used to it, but it was the first time it came from his best friend.

Soda stormed out of the DX, silently asking himself what Steve would keep from his very own best friend.

* * *

**_Tulsa Oklahoma, September 7, 1954_**

"Mommy," I whimpered, tugging on the end of her faded pink dress. "Don't go."

My mother brushed me off, taking her purse off the tabletop. "Steve," she said none too gently. "I have to go." she paused. "Now."

"Please," I bawled, uselessly trying to keep the tears from coming. "I don't want to be alone!" I sobbed.

My mother shook her head, looking disappointed. "Sorry." she said meaninglessly. She pried my tiny fingers from the seam of her skirt and forced her way out of the room before I could make a single movement.

I stared after her as she got into her car and drove off as fast as she could, not really sure if I was angry or upset.

"Are you Steve Randle." a falsely sweet voice spoke from behind me. I turned around. An old woman who looked weak enough to collapse at this very moment was standing inches away from me with a clipboard and pencil in her hand.

I shrugged, looking down at my old worn out sneakers.

"I'm Mrs. Nelson. " she said, holding her hand out to me. When I didn't move to take it, she pulled it back. "I'll will be your preschool teacher for the next nine months." she said with a wry smile on her face. "Isn't this wonderful.

I think we could both agree that this was far from wonderful. She was not my mother, and therefore I wouldn't listen to her or do anything she told me to. Maybe if I kept it up long enough, Mommy would finally let me go to work and spend the whole day with her.

Mrs. Nelson handed me a tissue. "Wipe those tears away from your adorable cheeks." she cooed, rubbing the top of my head. When I smacked her hand away, a wave of fury passed through her eyes. I thought she would hit me, like Mommy did when she was really angry, but she straightened up and cleared her throat. "You can take a seat over there." she said, her knobby hand pointing to an empty seat and her voice just barely shaking.

I walked slowly towards the seat, sulking to make it obvious we wouldn't be getting along. When I finally reached the creaky chair made of scratchy wood, I kicked my shoes off and tucked them under my chair.

As time passed, more kiddies came, each and every one crying for their mommies. I couldn't help but notice the way their mothers responded to it. Kissing them on the forehead, instead of brushing them off. Telling them they were proud, instead of treating them like another child to spend more money on. Hugging them and saying they loved them, instead of escaping at the first chance.

I also noticed how much larger the number of kids that came after I did versus how many came before I did. In short, I guess my mother just couldn't wait to get rid of me.

As the kids piled in, moving like robots into the seats where Mrs. Nelson would point her finger to, the seat beside mine remained empty.

Almost fifteen minutes since the last kid had came in, had passed and Mrs. Nelson still hadn't begun class. I also noticed that the more time that passed, the antsier Mrs. Nelson would get.

Three minutes and she was biting her lip. Five minutes, and she was clicking her heels against the floor rapidly, while I sat there wanting to tell her to stop, but also wanting to continue my act. Ten minutes, and she started rolling her pencil between her fingers as she paced back and forth across the small classroom. When the fifteen minute mark had hit, she was nearly sweating bullets, and her eyes were wide open and agitated.

Finally, the heavy door to the classroom creaked open, and the first real smile I'd seen on her, popped across Mrs. Nelsons wrinkly face.

A large man stepped in, his left hand gently placed on a little girl's back keeping at least a foot of distance between them. His face was contorted and nervous and he kept glancing back and forth from the silver watch on his wrist to back at Mrs. Nelson.

The little girl had her dark hair pulled into a tight braid that fell across her back as she glanced down at her feet. Her arms were crossed firmly over her chest and a layer of bangs hid her expression, but I doubted it was anything good.

"Thank goodness you're here," she said, a look of relief washing over her face. "Class was just about to start." Liar.

I couldn't believe that she'd made us sit in our tables for fifteen minutes, just for her. Fifteen minutes. Did she not know how hard it was for me to sit still for that long, I thought furiously.

She bent down and did what she most likely believed was a warm smile and snatched the little girl's hand. She flinched and glared at her father.

Mrs. Nelson pretended not to notice. "Oh, we have the perfect spot for you," she gushed. "You can sit by…" her gray eyes fell on me, with my shoes kicked off and my socks emitting a strange smell. "Oh." she said, sounding disappointed.

She turned towards the large man and gave one her "smiles" which resembled a face I'd make if I could openly express what I felt about her. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Gallagher," she said. "We could fine her a much better place-"

The large man held up a hand to stop her. "No, no it's okay," he said quickly. "Just put her anywhere you want," the girl glared at him. "I have too many more important things to do at work." The little girl's glare hardened.

Mrs. Nelson expression sprang up, and her eyes twinkled. "Of course, Mr. Gallagher," she said grinning. "Whatever you want." She took the little girl's hand and half dragged her towards the seat next to me.

"Now class…" Mrs. Nelson began, the rest of her speech, slowly fading from my awareness.

I glanced at the girl, to find that she was staring equally hard at me.

"What are you looking at?" she hissed, under her breath.

"What are you looking at?" I replied indignantly. "I can't believed we waited this long for you." I continued, trying to drill my eyes into her, they way my older brother did to me when he was angry.

She smiled proudly, her eyes lighting up. "My daddy works for Jean Paul Getty," she said, pompously emphasizing the name of the man I didn't know. "My mommy says Daddy is the richest man in Tulsa." she grinned, a smug expression on her face.

"Who's the Getty person?" I sneered back at her.

She tipped her chin up, proudly. "He's…" she paused for a moment, while I grinned at her smugly. She glared at me. "He's the richest man in the world." she finally said.

I tried to raise one of my eyebrows like I saw the people do on TV. "The President is the richest man in the world!"

"He's not richer than Jean Paul Getty," she barked, swinging her long braid back and forth across her shoulders. "My daddy says he has more money than you could ever imagine!"

"No he doesn't," I yelled indignantly.

Mrs. Nelson turned around from the blackboard. "Steve," she said, fury burning in her eyes. "Are you giving little Amelia a hard time."

"I am not little!" she piped.

"Of course you're not," Mrs. Nelson said quickly, turning towards her with a warm smile. "Would you like to sit next to someone more…" she gave a sideways glance at me. "clean."

"Yeah, go sit somewhere else," I shouted, louder than Amelia did herself."

Mrs. Nelson starred at me, her dark eyes warning me to shut up. "Why don't we let Amelia have a say in this," she said, her eyes still locked on to mine.

"He's right," Amelia sneered. She cast her eyes around the room. "I want that seat," she said, pointing a tiny finger at a shy little boy who had the seat in the very center and the very from of the room.

Mrs. Nelson beamed. "Of course Amelia," she said, smiling warmly. "Anywhere you want."

She turned to the boy. "Danny," she said firmly. "I want you to switch seats with Amelia," she said.

It was weird how she could say she could say "want" yet everyone understood it was hardly a preference and more of a demand.

Danny nodded silently, scooped his stuff up and stood next to Amelia, who was still gathering her endless amounts of pencils, pens, paper, and even a small can of paint.

As she got up from her chair, and began to head to her new designated area, she turned around and stuck her tongue at me. I blew a raspberry back, but real quiet like, so Mrs. Nelson didn't notice.

I think I can truthfully say that school was very, very boring. All we did was finger paint, and then the teacher read us a cheesy story about a stupid little girl who stole a bunch of stuff from three bears.

It was the dumbest story I've ever heard. Bears don't live in little cottages in the middle of the woods, and they don't have chairs, beds, or porridge. Besides, as moronic as Goldilocks was, it was better to go into someone's house than stand outside like an idiot, getting ready to be eaten by wolves.

I don't think I had ever been more relieved when the bell rang and the teacher announced it was "recess". I didn't know why it was called recess, or why it sounded so similar to Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, but I was thrilled enough not to care.

However, "recess" didn't turn out to be as fun as I thought. All the kids got out their building blocks and trains sets, while some other kids pulled out a book and pretended they knew how to read by looking at the pictures.

When I tried to play with the building blocks, this annoying girl yelled at me and told me I couldn't play. When I stuck my tongue out at her, she burst into tears, and tattled on me to Mrs. Nelson.

Then Mrs. Nelson told me, that since it was my first day, she would go easy on me, but if I screwed up again, she would have to punish me.

After that, I settled on sulking in my chair and mumbling something, not even I knew, so that everyone would know I'm upset.

When I heard the creak of a chair sliding out beside me, I glanced up. It was the Amelia girl taking a seat next to me.

"What are you doin'?" I asked indignantly, narrowing my eyes at the girl who got me into trouble at least twice in one day.

"Nuthin'," she retorted, pulling her braid over her shoulder. "I can sit here if I want to," she said.

"No you can't," I whined. I glanced at one of her chubby hands, that were wrapped around a set of blue pens. The only pens I've ever seen were black. "Gimme one of those and I'll let you sit here," I said.

"No!" she said quickly, yanking the pens out of my reach, protectively.

"Then you can't sit here," I replied snottily.

"Who's going to stop me," she asked, a satisfied smile on her face.

"I am," I snapped, glaring at her. "I'm going to make you move."

"Not you're not."

"Yes I am," I snapped back angrily. With that, I scooted off my chair and onto her's shoving her onto the floor. "See?"

"Hey," she complained, getting to her feet. "That's my chair," she said. She wrapped her hands around my arm, letting her pens drop to the floor. When she tried to yank me out of my seat, I was so surprised by her strength, I fell off to easily.

"Hey," I said. "That was cheating, I was goin' easy on you."

"No you weren't," she shouted, stomping her foot. "I beat your fair and square."

I shook my head. "No, I let you win, because you're a girl, and everybody knows boys are better than girls." I said, blowing a raspberry at her.

"No, they're not," she cried. Then, she reached over and slapped me across the cheek. I reeled back in surprise. I couldn't believe she'd actually hit me, I mean I all I did was speak the truth. So because of that, I shoved her to the ground and snatched up all of her pens.

"Ha-ha," I said, pressing my thumbs to my ears and wiggled my fingers at her. "I got your pens."

"Come back here," she screeched, leaping to her feet and scrambling after me. "You're a thief," she yelled, as she chased me down the hallway. "My daddy is going to call the cops 'cause you're a thief," she screamed after me.

I didn't know where Mrs. Nelson was that day. Maybe she was taking a bathroom break, or maybe she was going to get something. Mostly, however, I think it's because she didn't have anymore energy to deal with us.

I managed to sneak a quick peak behind me to find she was surprisingly close to catching up with me. I glanced around until I found a pair of doors, one with a girl over it and the other with a boy. I scrambled into the one under the boy.

"Ha-ha," I said, through the bulky wooden door. "You can't come here, because you're a girl." I continued. "Only boys can come in here."

For the first few seconds, I didn't hear anything from the other side of the door and I was afraid she left but then a tiny voice piped up. "Is there anyone else in there?" she asked.

I glanced around the small bathroom, consisting of nothing but a single toilet, a sink and a soap dispenser. "No," I called to her.

"Okay," she said happily. The next thing I knew, the door was shoved open right in front of my face. I tumbled backwards, letting the pens litter all over the tiled floor. I clutched my nose painfully. I hoped she'd broke it, then I could call the cops and tattle on her.

Amelia quickly bent down and snatched up all her pens, and began waving them in my face.

"I got the pens," she bragged, even though they were already her's in the first place. She pulled against the door until it opened and jumped out.

I leaped to my feet, the pain already fading from my nose. I wasn't about to let her get away. As soon as I pried the door open, and was ready for a full-on chase, I crashed into something, and my nose felt like it had just been burned.

I glanced up, my hand clutching my face. Amelia had been standing in front of the door, her eyes widened, and her cheeks paled.

"Do you know how to get back?" she whispered quietly.

I opened my mouth to brag about how much smarter I was, but then I slowly close it, when my mind began to wrap around the fact that I didn't, in fact, know how to get back. I shook my head.

Amelia flopped down next to me on the rough carpet floor. "My daddy says if I ever get lost, I should stick with someone older so I don't get kidnapped. " she paused to look at me. "How old are you?"

"I'm five," I stated proudly.

"I'm five too," she said, blinking her eyes. "When is your birthday?"

"April fifteenth," I said. "I turn six in seven months," I bragged, holding up my seven fingers to show her.

"Darn it," she said. "My birthday is on February twenty-first," she frowned. "Does that mean I'm going to get kidnapped?"

"Yes," I said, thinking about her theory of staying safe. "You will, but I won't because you're older than me."

She pouted and crossed her arms. "Well, if I get kidnapped, I'll tell the kidnappers that they should take you too," she said.

"I'll tell them they should kidnap Amelia, because your daddy is _the richest man in the world_," I said sarcastically. "And because you're a gir-" she glared at me warningly, and I snapped my mouth shut before I finished my sentence.

She sighed, letting her back slouch against the wall. "Don't call me that," she said to me.

"What?" I asked curiously. "A girl?" she opened her mouth, but I continued, cutting her off. "But you are one,"

She rolled her eyes. "No you dumbo," she said. "Don't call me Amelia."

"But that's your name." I said, tipping my head to the side.

"So?" she moped. "It's a stupid name. It's like an old lady name." she stopped to play with a piece of lint. "I am not an old lady."

"What else am I supposed to call you," I said accusingly.

She pressed her index finger to her chin, and started writing her name out in the dust-coated carpet.. "You should call me…" she glances down at the floor and used her hand to cover the first part of her name. "Lee-ah" she said finally.

"Leah?" I asked, staring at her.

"Yes," she said, nodding enthusiastically, "Lee-ah," she said, as a grin started to spread across her face. "But spelled with an _i_ and an _a_, so it looks like this." She pressed her fingers against the carpet, and began wrote "Lia" in the dust.

"That looks weird," I said bluntly. "No one names their kid that,"

"No it doesn't," she snapped defensively. "It looks pretty, like a princess name." she smiled. "and all 'fisticated and stuff." she said, stretching out the big word I didn't know.

"No it doesn't," I repeated stubbornly.

She shrugged. "At least it looks better than Steve," she said writing my name down on the carpet. "Steve is an old man name," she said.

I glared at her, and added the last E at the end of my name. "It's what my mommy named me," I said feeling defensive. "It's a perfectly 'fisticated name."

"It is not," she said. "A 'fisticated name would be like…" she added two extra letters to the end of my name. _Stevert._

I just stared at her. "That's a dumb name," I said. "Who has a name like "Stevert"?" I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders again. "It's nice," she said. "It's like a mix between Steve and Robert," she grinned. "Stevert," she said, trying the name on her tongue.

I withdrew in disgust. "Well can't call me that," I said, crossing my arms, hoping I looked intimidating.

"Okay," she said simply. "I won't call you Stevert if you promise to call me Lia when there is people around,"

"I promise," I said, holding my hand out, so it would be professional. "Do you, promise never to call me Stevert when there're people around?" I asked.

She smiled and nodded. "I promise," she said confidently. She took my hand and gave it a hard shake.

"Hey," I said, pulling my hand back. "That hurted," I said, crossing my arms.

"Well my daddy says you have to grip as hard as you can so they feel all scared and stuff," she said, smiling at me.

After what seemed like a few minutes spent talking with Amelia, Mrs. Nelson had scrambled into the hallway, looking ready to have a heart attack. When she first saw the two of us, she looked relieved. Then her face got all twisted up so that her head looked like it was about to pop off. She took us back to the classroom and yelled at us for having her all worried, and how we'd been gone for an entire hour. I don't know what the purpose of her saying that was, but it made me feel proud. I never spent a whole hour all alone, kind of.

When the final bell rang, Mrs. Nelson went up to Lia and told her that her daddy was parked outside the school.

Before she left, she walked towards me. "I like you, Steve," she said. "I 'cided you can be my friend."

I stuck my tongue out at her again. "You can be my friend too," I said.

She smiled at me. "Bye Steve," she said brightly, waving at me before she left, leaving Mrs. Nelson looking angrier than ever.

* * *

**A/N: This is the longest time I've ever spent on a chapter. I also think it's the one with least mistakes. Beta Readers are awesome. =) **

**Reviews are (very, very, VERY) appreciated.**


	2. Norvell Park

**Tulsa Oklahoma, August 15, 1959**

The small bristles of the brush snatched up the tangles of my hair as Judith ran her brush through it one last time. I sighed and swung my legs back and forth over the legs of the wooden stool.

"Ya done yet?" I groaned impatiently at the maid.

"Almost there Amelia," she said monotonously. She slid her fingers into my hair, weaving it into the tight braid that had always felt the most natural and comfortable to me.

I leapt to my feet the moment she polished it off with a rubber band. I scrambled across the tiled floor of the bathroom and slipped past Judith, snatching up my wool jacket along the way.

"Can I go to the park now?" I yelled as I ran past my mother and her friends having tea on the porch.

My mother swung around on her chair and looked me up and down. She sighed. "Of course sweetie," she mumbled, barely waiting for me to leave before she started chattering with her friends again.

"She's going to see _that _boy again," I heard her say as I skipped down the pavement of our driveway. "I'm sure she'll change once school starts up again."

To my mother, Steve was never Steve. He was always "That boy" or "Your friend" if she was talking to me. I wouldn't be very surprised if I found out she didn't know his name.

As I exited my house, I pulled my bike out from the garage and began peddling down the streets. The autumn wind blew across the road making the skirt of my new dress flutter around my knees. I loved my dress. Daddy had just bought it for me before he left for his business trip, and it was pink, just like I told him it should be.

Actually, there was a park just a quarter mile from my house, but Steve had always insisted on going to the other one. It always had to be the one on his side of the town, the one I've heard to have a smaller fountain and a rusted playground that I hated with passion. Yet, it was only a week ago when we both decided not to play with each other since we couldn't agree on a location, that Steve proved to be more stubborn than I was.

My bike skidded to a stop at the traffic light, waiting patiently for it to turn green so that I could cross the busy road. A red Mustang filled with a bunch of boys I've seen at dinner with Daddy before screeched to a stop as the traffic light turned green. I especially noticed one of the younger ones in the backseat.

His name was Derrick Lowe and he was fourteen. My daddy and his were real close. I'd seen him at dinner at least twice as much as I've seen all the other boys. I liked him. Sometimes when Daddy invited his business friends over, some of the boys would start getting fidgety and rolling their eyes when their parents weren't looking, but Derrick was very polite. He never screwed around and always smiled at me at dinner. My mother also said he was a real looker, which I didn't know the meaning of, but I assumed it was good.

"Hey Lia!" he shouted over the busy traffic. I grinned and waved at him. "Need a ride?" he asked, pointed to the empty seat beside him. The other boys snickered and punched him on the shoulder.

"Okay," I said happily, smiling at him. The boys laughed again, so I joined in, without knowing why.

Derrick blushed. " Uh, can you pull over?" he mumbled at the driver, not meeting my eyes.

The driver gave a toothy grin and swerved his car into the gutter. The man behind him stuck up his middle finger, something my mother told me I was absolutely forbidden to do, but most of the boys just seemed to brush it off.

"Hey Derrick," one of the boys said. "Go help your girlfriend load her bike."

"Shutup Chris," he snapped, blushing angrily. I picked at my nails, feeling both confused and guilty.

Derrick sighed and flipped himself out of the car without opening the door. "Gimme your bike Lia," he snapped at me. I winced. "Sorry," he said quickly, picking up my bike. "Kinda stressed today you know?" he said, shoving it into the trunk and kicking it shut.

When the boys snickered again, Derrick whacked one of them on the head.

He sighed, opening the door. "Get in,"

I followed him into the car. Suddenly, I wished I hadn't accepted his offer. I felt very cramped, sitting in a car with people who were both boys and older than me.

"Where d'ya need to go?" The one called Chris asked me.

"Norvell Park," I said, repeating the name Steve told me over the phone a few days ago.

Chris raised his eyebrows curiously. "What does a little girl like you need to go _that_ side of town for?"

I didn't know what he meant by "_that_ side", but I said the first thing and most instinctive thing that came to mind: "I am _not _little." I snapped, glaring at him.

Around the same time the boys started laughing, my cheeks started to burn.

"I'm sorry," Chris croaked, keeping his eyes glued to the road. "But again, why do you need to go there?"

"So I can…" I trailed off, searching for a better word than play. "Hang out with my friend." I said confidently.

As soon as the words left my lips, I closed my eyes, expecting a sea of laughter to follow. Instead, Chris just raised his eyebrows again.

"Uh," Derrick began. He leaned over the head of Chris's seat and began to whisper something into his ear.

"Oh," he said flatly.

"Well?" I said impatiently. "Y'all gonna tell me what you were whispering about?" I asked pointedly.

"It's nothing important Lia," Derrick said quickly.

"Tell me," I snapped, crossing my arms. I hated being left out of things. It wasn't as if I didn't get enough of it at home with Daddy.

"I told you Amelia," Derrick said angrily, his cheeks reddening again. "It's not important."

"Tell me what you were whispering about," I shouted before I could stop and think.

"You know-" Chris began, stopping only when Derrick clamped his hand over his mouth and began whispering again.

"Of course I _know _that," Chris snapped. "I just _want _to."

I didn't bother to ask what he said to Chris. Instead, I crossed my legs and planted my elbow on the edge of the car and stared at the flashes of the streets zooming past me.

At first, the pattern of the buildings seemed somewhat repetitive, but then it started to change. The houses grew shorter and smaller and the sidewalks seemed to crack more and more the further we went.

The people changed too. The boys looked very dangerous, with their soiled clothing and their cold and sullen posture that seemed near threatening. When we passed them down the street they sneered at us.

The girls were worse. They were the girls with too much eye make-up, the girls who laughed too much, and who weren't acting at all like my mother said proper girls should act. I'd seen girls like that at school before. They were the ones who were too loud and pushy and who never got good grades. They were the spitting image of the kind of girl my mother tried desperately to keep me from becoming. Not that I would ever turn into one of them even without my mother's help.

Suddenly, I began to wonder why Steve requested a park in a place like this in the first place.

"We're here," Chris announced with relief as he started to pull over on the side of the street.

I glanced up from my seat and caught a glimpse of Steve slouching against the metal fence surrounding the park, his hands tucked away in his pocket.

"There he is!" I shout, standing up in the car and pointing at Steve.

"Hey isn't that Mike Randle's kid brother?" one of the boys yelled, provoking a roar of laughter.

"Hush up," Derrick said, nervously eyeing me. "Dad says I'm not supposed to be here, 'member?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Chris said mockingly. "C'mon Lia," he said to me. "Go play with your friend."

When we reached the edge of the park gates, Steve's eyes widened as he saw us, but he kept his expression calm and subtle.

"Hi Steve!" I said, waving at him with a grin on my face. He glanced up and gave me a half smile.

"Hi Steve," Chris said, giving me a sense that he was teasing me. Steve's jaw tightened and he dropped his eyes back to his shoes.

"Hey Steve," Chris said. "You wanna play with Lia here?" he asked, a smirk rising on his face. "Heard your big brother was-"

One of the boys touched his shoulder, nodding his head at my direction, provoking some negative emotions within me. "Not now," he said quietly, shaking his head.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Fine," he snapped. He turned towards his friends, "Let's get out of this dump," he mumbled, walking away his convertible.

As soon as they were gone, I looked back at Steve. "Hi," I said, taking my spot next to him as we began to trudge up the hills and to the park.

"Why were you riding with them?" he snapped. I winced, surprised by his crude remark.

"What are talking about?" I retorted defensively. "They're Daddy's friends. Besides, why do you care if I ride with them?"

He rolled his eyes. "Mike says they're bad people." he said. "They go 'round beatin' people up like there's no tomorrow."

I punched his arm. "They are not," I said, my cheeks paling with anger. "Derrick would never do that!"

He rolled his eyes again and smirked at me. "Whatever, Li-Li." he said. "Wanna go use the swings?" he asked.

I nodded. We strolled across the layer of untrimmed grass laid across the park and groups of small children with their hands tightly wrapped around the hands of mothers who weren't nearly as glamorous or polite as my mother. We passed small girls who shouted too loud to be considered proper and small boys in shaggy clothing and who kept falling down to introduce new scars on their knees.

"Steve," I said, suddenly feeling very tense.

"Hmm?"

"What was Chris talking about?" I asked. "You know, about what your brother did."

He stared at me for a few seconds then replied "Heck if I know. Mike is always gettin' himself into trouble," he said with a shrug.

"_Ain't that the truth_," I said silently.

I hated Steve's brother with a strong passion. He was so unruly and rude, not to mention he smoked. Not the fancy cigars Daddy used, by those thin strips of rolled up weed that the poor people used. It was disgusting, not to mention it was completely foul.

That wasn't the worst part though; he was always foolishly grinning at the older girls who were around his age and being outright offensive to them, then acting like it was nothing.

He was the reason I refused to go to Steve's house. Not that he ever actually invited me, even though I'd invited him to mine all those times I forced my mother to let me, but I didn't mind. Then I wouldn't have to say no.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I mean Chris sounded really mad, and he wouldn't do that without a good reason, you know?"

"How would you know," he said, with a sudden fierceness in his voice. "How do you know he's all perfect?" he retorted.

I cringed in surprise. "What's wrong with you today?" I yelled angrily, before reminding myself to keep my voice down. "You have no right to talk to me like that," I said, repeating a popular phrase my mother used towards me. "I never even said he was perfect, you moron!"

He glared at me and I stared right back into his eyes, the two of us trying to prove who was stronger. I remembered how hard it was to get along with Steve and how our personalities would always clash out of stubbornness.

Just when I thought I would have to rip my dried out eyeballs from my skull, Steve pulled away.

"I'm sorry okay?" he said, raising his arms up in surrender. "I'm sorry, been having a bad day, okay Li-Li?"

"Your dad again?" I guessed. He shrugged. I groaned a little on the inside. "Why won't you ever just _talk_ to me about him?" I pouted, grabbing that chain of the swing set and seating myself upon it. "I'm your best friend aren't I?" He shrugged.

This time I didn't keep my groan on the inside.

The subject of Steve's father had always been an untouchable subject. Something I knew he'd never talk about to anyone. I had always thought that one day he'd get all upset and come to me to fess up about his problems, seeing how I was _supposed_ to be his best friend, but so far all I knew was that his dad just yelled at him a lot.

Not that I saw any problem within that. My mother always yelled at me and was constantly telling me that I wasn't being polite, that I was doing something wrong, or whatever seemed to fit. Personally, I never saw a problem in that.

"Lia," he said, rolling his eyes for the third time.

"Steve," I mimicked.

"Shut up," he said, taking a seat on the swing next to me. "Can we just forget about this?"

"Fine."

I gripped the chains of the swing and dug my toe into the grass, propelling me backwards. I closed my eyes as I swung my legs back and forth, swinging back, just to dip towards the earth and to be lifted up at the last second. I closed my eyes as the wind fluttered the loosed hair around my cheeks.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, letting the world fade around me as I swayed back and forth with the wind.

* * *

That night, our chef made us a big chicken that was roasted so that it was crunchy and had sauce and everything. He also served us side dishes of woven baskets filled with steaming buns and sticks of celery.

A bunch of Daddy's friends came over to keep my mother company, because Daddy was off on a business trip. Daddy always had someone over, and I stopped trying to keep track of who they were and all of their names a long time ago.

Today, there was a father with big shoulders and a red stubble on his squared jaw and a mother who was too skinny and who always looked tense and shifty. They had a pair of twin girls who were around fifteen that decided to completely ignore me as they sat in _my_ couch in _my _living room, using _my _television.

But of course, my mother said to be courteous, as we were the host family so I kept my mouth shut.

I'm not sure what triggered her to say that, or what happened previous to that, but the highlight of my wonderful dinner happened when the mother decided to announce a piece of gossip she heard.

She leaned her long neck over the dinner table and grinned. "You know what I heard today?" She said with a mischievous smile. "I heard a group of boys from _our _side of town were over a Norvell Park," she said, without waiting for an answer. Her eyes began to dance with excitement. "And one of the boys was no other than Warren's handsome son."

"No," my mother said, lightly touching her perfectly red lips. "You're kidding."

"Nope," the pale woman said with satisfaction. "And you know what else I heard?"

"What?"

"Your little Lia was sitting in the backseat!"

My mother's frown slipped off her face, and the shine in her eyes vanished before I could blink.

"Oh," was the only thing she managed to utter. The little muscle she had in her back tensed and she glared at me. Even though it was only out of the corner of her eye, and was subtle enough that no one noticed, like always, I still felt I had been shoved into a pit of coals.

The woman turned to me. "Lia," she said, looking a little hyper. "Is that true?" she asked excitedly. "Were you at Norvell Park today?"

Behind her back, I caught a glimpse of my mother giving a tiny shake of her head. "No." I lied.

"Oh," she said, sounding a little disappointed. "Well, this friend of mine said she saw a little girl who was, oh around ten in a light pink dress -very much like the one you have on now- was sitting in the back of a red convertible." she said simply. "I wonder who else that could've been."

"How would you know if someone from our side was at Norvell Park, Ruth?" my mother asked icily, the warmth gone from her voice. "I don't suppose you've _been _over there recently, have you?"

"No, no of course not," the woman replied promptly. "I just heard from this "friend" of mine -She's not really my _friend, _she's one of _them_, but she just thinks I am…"

The conversation picked up from there and my mother eventually pulled out from her cold state, but it was nearly impossible to ignore the furious looks she gave me every few minutes.

When the woman and her husband decided to leave, I was dreading what I assumed would happen to me.

As soon as the door slammed shut, my mother whirled around on her heel.

"Judith, do Amelia's laundry," she ordered stiffly, pointing her index finger at the door, and chasing our maid out with her angry eyes until she was completely gone.

"Amelia Rose Gallagher," she snapped using my full name.

Usually I could estimate how much trouble I would get in, depending purely on what my mother was calling me. If it was just Lia, it was nothing to be scared of. If she started to sneer sarcastic names at me like honey or sweetheart, a grounding was on my horizon. But unless she was completely and utterly furious beyond control, she'd never use my middle name, Rose, a name she despised and chose only to honor my dead grandmother.

"Were you at Norvell Park today?" she asked, her eyes glowering in a way that I knew would be impossible to lie to.

I nodded my head.

"Were you at Norvell Park today?" she asked again, this time louder.

"Yes."

"Lia!" I managed to sneak a glance at her face. The moment I did, I instantly wished I could take it back. Her mouth was all twisted up funny and her eyes, merciless. "What were you thinking? What on earth would have obliged you to go to _that _side of town.

I bit my lip. This didn't look like a very good time to mention Steve, someone she never outright said she hated, but also a fact she didn't try to hide nonetheless. Not that today gave me a good reason to stand up for him.

Before I could answer though, she spoke again. "Don't tell me," she sneered. "Was it that little friend of yours?" She groaned. "Ugh, I _knew _I should've never sent you to that public school," she spat. "Public school, what was I thinking, we could've easily paid for something better!"

At moments like these, it was best not to say anything.

"You know what this could do to me-to us?" she babbled on, hopefully forgetting about me. "We are one of the _richest _families in Tulsa, and we sent our child to public school, only to have her make friends with this…this…" she glanced at me and heaved a sigh, crumpling onto the couch.

"Go to your room Lia," she said into her palms.

"Steve isn't bad," I couldn't help but say.

She raised her head from her hands. "Lia, just…_go_."

"Don't yell at me," I screamed. "Don't talk to me like that."

My mothers eyes flared and I recoiled. "You do not get to talk to your mother like that," she growled.

"But you don't understand," I retorted. "You never _listen_ to me, you're always worrying about yourself-"

"Amelia," she said shakily. "you do not talk to your mother like that." She paused, testing to see if I would keep silent. I did. "Go to your room."

I curled up my fists and scrambled up the long flight of stairs in our mansion towards my bedroom, making a fuss by banging my feet against the carpet and slamming the door.

"Lose that sulky attitude!"

I dove into bed and began to scream into my sheets, only to scramble back to the door the moment I heard my mother's voice.

I pressed my ear against the door and closed my eyes, trying to block out the other foreign sounds.

"William," My mother said tiredly. I nearly smashed my face against the door, not believing that she'd actually called Daddy. "You wouldn't believe what I just heard from Ruth today, Lia, my little Lia was…"

I yanked myself away from the door and leaped into my, burring my face into the sea of pillows. The blood rose to my cheeks out of shame.

_She can't tell Daddy_, I thought desperately, afraid of what he'd think of me. A sudden hatred of Steve rose in my throat. Hatred at the fact that he'd dragged me to the wretched place, hatred at the fact he'd made my mother to yell at me, but mostly hatred at the fact he might've caused Daddy to think less of me.

Daddy couldn't ever do that. He was Daddy, and he was supposed to be proud of me, something I'd been trying to achieve for years. The only time I'd ever seen _real _pride from Daddy was way back when I was seven and I told him I wanted to work for the oil industry, just like he did. I guess after that, his expectations probably surged upwards.

I closed my eyes and sank into bed, falling into the hole of sleep. The last thing I remembered was that I left my bicycle in Chris's car.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry I haven't been around for awhile. Inspirations and time as been running low.**

**A big thanks to my beta, Silence Be Heard who helped me from getting mauled from the grammar police.**

**Oh, and do you see that yellow button down there? Can you click it? Pwease? **


	3. The Other Side

**A/N: Next chapter's up! Thank you to everyone who gave me feedback, and of course my beta, Silence Be Heard who took the time to make this less eye burning. **

**I still don't own the Outsiders.**

* * *

**Tulsa Oklahoma, August 21, 1959**

"Hey, hey Steve, get up."

I rubbed my eyes and flipped over onto my back, only to have my sheets pulled away from beneath me. I glanced up to the face of my older brother in nothing but his underwear.

I groaned. "Where's Dad?" I mumbled as he yanked me out of bed.

"I dunno, probably out for his daily booze," Mike said, laughing at his pointless joke. "C'mon Steve," he said nudging me towards our small kitchen. "Have a waffle," he slid a plate of the half-baked breakfast towards me.

I sighed, picking at the small parts of the waffle that were actually edible. I turned towards Mike. "What the hell, d'ya want today?" I asked, pushing the plate away from me and narrowing my eyes.

Mike sighed. He crossed his arm, flexing his muscles, of which I guess was out of habit. "Didn't want to hurt your feelings or anything, but I guess it's too late," he said sounding more than a little annoyed. He slid the plate away from me and dumped it into the trash can. "Carla's comin' over in 'bout five minutes here and you better be gone by then," he said, pulling a pair of jeans on.

"Carla likes me," I said defensively, sounding a little surprised.

Mike laughed. "Sure she does," he smirked, grinning ear to ear. He snatched up a comb and poured half a bottle of grease on to it and began twisting and turning it through his mass black hair.

I always thought Mike spent too much time on his looks. Greasing his hair into complicated swirls that were far from natural and made you dizzy just to look at and doing hours off grunt work just to see how much muscle he could get. I couldn't imagine spending half as much time in the morning as he did.

Then again, I guess it did seem to pay off a little. At eighteen, Mike always had a swarm of girls with him and was always with a fairly attractive girl - Except for Shelly. Shelly was eye burning to look at with her ten pounds of make up on her pale face and shirts that were so tight it pushed her pair way up, not to mention she seemed overly proud of it.

Carla was sweet. She dressed sensibly and was always polite and ignored the random outbreaks from Dad, even though the fear was obvious in her eyes. But I knew Carla wasn't the kind of girl that would last, or even make a mark in Mike's heart. Mike had a strange taste in girlfriends, and girls like Carla were the kind of girls who fell into the girls-used-to-make-other-girls-jealous category.

"Hurry up," Mike said, yanking me from my chair and tossing me a bundle of clothes. He lit a cigarette and held it to his lips with his teeth as he continued to work on his perfect hair.

"Mom's gonna kill you if she sees you smoking here," I said, trying to ignore the putrid scent that clogged my lungs every stinking time Mike whipped out a cigarette.

I never tried smoking since Lia told me smoking killed. Of course, Lia wasn't exactly your most reliable source - I would know, remembering that time she'd claimed one of her new toys came all the way from China, when she had really gotten it as a homemade gift from her endless line of relatives - but I liked my life the way it was despite everything.

Mike turned his head to face me, looking both confused and angry. "Why would you care what our mom wants?" he snapped bitterly.

I shrugged, hoping to avoid the subject. I got off the chair and scrambled to the bathroom.

"Hey, hey Steve, where ya goin'?" Mike said, jumping after me.

"I'm brushing my teeth," I said, picking my toothbrush doing my best to sound too irritated. "Can you get out?"

He rolled his eyes and smirked, giving me one of those expressions that said he was older and therefore my superior who knew much more than I did. "Don't getcha hopes up pretty boy," he said, a knowing smile on his face. "Mom ain't never gonna give a damn about the either of us," he said, ruffling my black hair so that it stuck up in spikes.

"Hey!" My hands sprung up to my head and I began to fix it up desperately. "You don't know that," I say quietly, answering his previous question. "She might come around."

Another chortle of laughter escape Mike's throat and he shook his head and sighed. "Can you go _now? _Carla will be here real soon."

I rolled my eyes and pushed my way past Mike and towards the front door. He followed me, setting his comb back down on the scratchy countertop of our kitchen.

"Hey, where ya gonna go?" he asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know," I sneered, picking up my jacket and swirling it around so I was carrying it on my shoulders.

"_Still _friends with the Soc girl?" he said disdainfully.

"So what if I am?"

He grinned. "She hates me, doesn't she?"

I nodded, trying to hide that smile tugging at the corners of my lips. I'd seen the way Lia looked at him like he was some sort of farm animal. Not that I blamed her that much. Mike was a pig, in the way that he was extremely obnoxious and how he wore that smile on his face that made you think the world could fit in his palm.

In the same sense, Mike was still my brother and it was quit amusing to see Lia try to hide her despise for him, and thinking she could just by keeping her mouth shut.

As quickly as it appeared, Mike's smile slipped off his face. "You need to find some new friends, ya know?" he said, sounding the slightest bit concerned.

I didn't know. Yes Lia was so oblivious some times, and yes she was incredibly stubborn and hard to get along with, but she was one of the few people who didn't see me as some sort of hoodlum. She was also the only person I could call out on and not be afraid that she would take it the wrong way. And I guess I'm a little stubborn and hard to get along with too. Just not as much, because I was obviously better than her. She was a girl so she was weak.

Mike groaned. "You're are such a moron sometimes, you know that?"

"I am not," I shouted defensively. "You're the one whose been out with fifty thousand different girls," As soon as I said that, I started to wonder how much of an insult it actually was.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Mike said with a grin. "But, seriously," he continued. "Just _don't_ go one her side of town kay?"

"Why can't I?" I asked. Not that I actually would go. People there don't like me very much.

Mike groaned outwardly. "Just _don't _okay? Listen to your big brother."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I buried my fingers in my pockets and pushed past him and onto the broken steps of our house as I began walking in a random direction not knowing where I would end up.

I gave a quick glance behind me at the noise of a damaged engine to see a rusty car pull it's way into our driveway.

I shook my head and stared right down at my feet, willing them to move faster. A smirk touched the edges of my mouth as our house disappeared faster and faster behind me, wondering how much trouble Mike would be in.

I had no idea what Carla's car was like, but I was pretty sure I would know if I saw my dad's car.

* * *

I stared out my window and into the busy traffic. Every once in a while a worn down second-hand car would stumble down the paved road outside out house and I would wonder why didn't they just buy a newer and better looking one.

I sighed, pressing my cheeks against the heel of my hand as I traced circles on the breath marks I made on my window.

My mother never actually said I was grounded but I had a good idea that leaving my room wouldn't be a very good thing to do right now.

When I went down for breakfast, she didn't even say a word to me as she whizzed up and down the hallways searching for something. When I finished my scrambled eggs she had told me to go upstairs to do my homework as if she'd forgotten school didn't start for another few weeks. I hadn't come out since then.

I pushed myself off the bench and reached beneath it and opened a drawer filled with dolls I hadn't played with for years.

I dug my hand into it and tossed a few dolls aside until I found the set of three that looked just like my family.

A large father-doll with big shoulders and a serious look on his face, a briefcase clutched in his hand. There was a mother-doll who was tiny and primped, her posture perfect and her eyes alert. Then of course, there was the me-doll. She had blue eyes just like me and black hair just like me and a pretty smile just like me.

I tossed the me-doll and the father-doll back into the drawer, took the mother-doll and opened the window. As immature as I felt at that moment, it felt great to just dangle her by one of her legs out the window.

"Amelia?" The voice was joined by a sudden knock at the door.

I yelped in surprise, dropping the doll as I swirled around. Behind me, I heard it tumble through a forest of bushes and trees into a certain misfortune.

"Come in," I said, sounding a little unsteady.

Judith pushed open the door to see me sitting in front of an open window, my fingers curled over the edge and my back halfway out the door.

"Lia!" she barked. She hurried over towards me and pushed my out of the way. "Don't do that, you're going to hurt yourself," she gasped, snapping the window shut. I peeked over her shoulder to see the doll tangled in a cluster of vines along the side of our house.

"Sorry," I mumbled, flopping down on my bed. I brushed the light, silky fabric that was my canopy out of my face, looking at Judith. "Is my mother mad at me?" I asked, feeling timid.

Judith sighed, picking up one of my dresses that I had tossed onto the floor. "Well you did go on the other side without her permission," she said.

I whipped my canopy behind me and glared at her back. "Well she said I could go to the park and I did go to the park and she never said I couldn't go to The Other Side and it's not like I went out of town or anything, I mean, I was still in Tulsa," I heaved a big gulp of air. "Besides, what's wrong with The Other Side anyways?"

Judith didn't say anything at first. Instead, she just stood there bent over, picking up my dirty laundry. Her movements were stiff and steady like a robot. Finally she straightened up.

"I don't know honey," she said softly. Without turning to me, she spoke again. "You shouldn't go there again. A little girl like you would stick out like a sore thumb."

"I am not little. I am ten years old," I said defiantly. I wondered if only the old people lived there and that's why I couldn't go there. I was too young. But Steve had no problem going there, and my parents lived here too, so that didn't make any sense.

Maybe only the bad people lived there. That would explain why they were dressed so badly, why they were so rude and why they kept staring at me. I was a good person, so I didn't belong there. But neither did Steve.

"Is something wrong with Steve?" I asked bluntly.

Judith swirled around to look at me, her eyes searching me for an answer. "Why do you ask?"

"Why doesn't my mother like him? He's a good person, he doesn't belong on The Other Side, and I don't know why he was there." I said, half expecting Judith to have all the answers.

At first she just looked a little confused. "Well that's her business." she said uncomfortably. "You sure do ask a lot of questions."

"Why can't I? Everyone says asking questions helps you learn things." I wished I was taller and older looking so that everything wouldn't keep smirking at me the way Judith did at that moment, whenever I said anything that was remotely a question. They always made me feel like I was a little baby that knew nothing.

Judith smiled sadly, walking over to kiss my forehead. I couldn't help but pull away just a little. It felt weird and awkward, especially since it was my maid. My mother hardly touched me except when she needed to, and Daddy's hugs were always stiff and never felt completely right.

Judith's kiss felt too… natural. Like she wasn't even holding back and showing much more of herself than my mother ever did.

"Your mother will forgive you in time," she said softly. She sighed, picking up her things. "I apologize Amelia, I need to finish my chores," she said, with a louder and stronger voice. "I'll speak to you later."

I hated being ten.

* * *

In the few books Mike had ever read, the weather always seemed to fit perfectly with the mood - a warm summer day when friends went out for ice cream, a moonlit night in a touching romance scene, or a stormy day for a tension-filled setting.

However, this was not the case for Mike.

A bright sunny day with the sound of a soft wind whistling through the grass hardly seemed fitting to Mike's dark and irritated disposition. In fact, more or less, it made him feel like throttling someone.

He looked up into the glare of the sunlight that burned his eyes and scowled. He took a long drag of his cigarette as he peered over his shoes that were propped up on the hood of his car.

He sighed as the wind rustled though his black hair, his eyes glued to the empty road in front of his house. He was waiting patiently for his girlfriend to run back to him and apologize, even though he knew she wouldn't.

He smiled bitterly, thinking about Steve and how his little brother thought Carla was so okay with their father. He couldn't understand how _anyone _would be okay with that, especially a girl like Carla who sure knew how to run her mouth.

Not that she ever said anything in front of Steve and his father. She probably thought his father would try to murder her in her sleep if she did.

Mike snorted. A broad like Carla with her stuck up, prissy attitude would have made her appear to anyone else as one of them Socs. The only things that did set her apart from them obviously low income, something the selfish bitch loathed.

Steve thought he was so cool, the way he stuffed his hands in his pockets and slouched like it was he most badass thing in the world. He also thought himself as smart when he was so ignorant to the cold, harsh truth. He bet the kid had never been in a real fight.

That awkward Soc friend of his was worse. Mike couldn't see what Steve saw in her. She thought that simply not outright saying to Mike that she hated him would make up for all those disgusted faces she made, not to mention she was sheltered beyond Mike's wildest dreams.

She was the type of girl who reminded Mike of a wide-eyed baby rabbit who wouldn't make it past it's first week.

Mike rolled his head back and sighed. The moment Carla walked in on a highly intoxicated Mr. Randle she had stomped out angrily complaining about how she'd "had enough."

Not that his poor father was any better. The bastard was always so angry in a way that would drive Mike back into his room in fear every night when he was a child. He was damaged beyond help and Mike never saw a sign that he actually cared. Except for the dollar bill he gave him on occasion, his own form of apology.

He had yelled at Mike for leaving the house a mess and cussed him out for the millionth time for being so useless. Then, the flabbergasted man who was more likely drunk that not, had stormed out of the house.

His mom had set herself apart from all three of them and was still trying to pull away. She refused to file a divorce because of legal issues and left Steve with the false impression that somewhere inside her, she still cared.

Mike rolled his feet off his car and wiped the sweat off his brow, finally deciding he had waited long enough for Carla. Walking back towards the mad house where the root of all his problems resided, he decided he couldn't wait to move out.

* * *

"Beautiful day isn't it Derrick?" the woman asked, her pinkie finger sticking pointedly away from her cup.

"Of course," the redheaded boy replied sweetly, flashing a fake, yet pleasant smile that would fool anyone. He wrapped his palms around his glass of lemonade, stirring the yellow liquid in tiny circles with his straw.

He looked away from Ms. Johnson's blank gray eyes and starred at the patio door impatiently until his mother emerged from the door. Her hair was primped as always and her make-up perfect.

Derrick managed to stop himself from completely leaping out of his chair. "May I leave now, Mom?" he asked trying not too talk to fast and hoping his eyes were as empty of emotion as he thought they were.

His mother smiled at him, taking his seat and ushering him away to his large house.

Derrick slipped into the house, collapsing against the door and hoping he didn't slam it too hard. He glanced up at the ceiling and sighed, causing his red bangs to flutter up into the air.

Derrick walked away from the patio, letting the chatter of his mother and her friend fade in significance as the phone began to ring.

"Hello?" he spoke into the receiver; breaking a piece off a chocolate bar he just bought a few days ago.

"Derrick?" he recognized the worry-free voice of Chris and smiled.

"It's me," he said absentmindedly searching for a chair that was within distance of the phone cord. "Want somthin'?"

"Yeah," Chris said, his voice crackling over the speaker. "You wanna take a drive with me and the boys. We snitched some beer from some dumbass at the gas station."

"You're not gonna drink it, are you?" Derrick asked, feeling taken aback.

"Course we are," Chris said through the phone. "What else would we do with it?" he laughed. "The guys are gonna be so jealous."

"We could go to jail," Derrick said incredulously, an image of a group of greasers he saw just a few days ago, flashing through his head.

"Only if we get caught," Chris said. Derrick could practically see him shrugging his bulky shoulders. "Besides, we're just gonna try it. It's not like we're gonna get drunk or anything, ya know?" he paused for a moment. "Unless, of course, you wanna hang with that little kindergartener of a girlfriend you have?"

Derrick ducked his flushed cheeks behind his shoulders, forgetting Chris couldn't see him over the phone.

"Kid's not my girlfriend," he snapped. "I was jus' being nice 'cause our dads are friends. Besides, I didn't want her to go blabbing to her daddy 'bout how we were wasting gas," Derrick replied, trying to slow his voice down.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, say whatever you want, she's still your girlfriend," Chris said with a chuckle.

"She-" Derrick begun, only to be cut off by Chris' louder and stronger voice.

"So, you coming or not?" Chris asked impatiently. "C'mon Derrick, don't be a wuss," he taunted.

"Yeah," Derrick said quietly. "I'll be there."

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I did give Steve a brother. However, he's eight years older than him, so in my Outsiders universe he was long gone by the time of the book.**

**Review please? I'll give you a cookie. **


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